


Leagues Beneath the Sea

by engineerleopoldfitz (aching_for_distance), sakurazawa



Series: Restful Sleep in the Strangest of Places [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Atlantis, F/M, Underwater, submarine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4837976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aching_for_distance/pseuds/engineerleopoldfitz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurazawa/pseuds/sakurazawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another old gDocs fic. </p>
<p>Three years after "A Few New Ways to Keep Warm", Fitz realizes they might be able to make it work, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leagues Beneath the Sea

She didn’t think too much about the weight on the mattress at first, not until she remembered where she was: in a vessel roughly a quarter the size of the bus, on a potentially-one-way trip to SHIELD’s so-called “Atlantis”. The submarine had only three narrow bunks that folded down from the wall, and when Jemma had been relieved from her watch by Coulson, she’d come back to find Skye and May sharing one bunk, Ward’s enormous frame barely fitting in a second. Jemma herself had taken the third.

So, of course, when May had risen to relieve Fitz, he would have been faced with a choice: crawl into the bunk with Skye, Ward, or Simmons. Obviously, he’d chosen the person he’d slept next to before.

Fitz. Mystery solved. She inhaled, immediately relaxing, because as he slid in behind her, she remembered the Academy. The late nights studying, getting too tired or too tipsy to go back to her own dorm room. She’d never minded curling up in his bed, and after the first two or three times, he’d given up sleeping on top of the covers. A few nights of elbowing each other and grumbling about cover-thieving and cold feet, and they’d figured out how to co-sleep comfortably.

He slid in place behind her, and she felt his hand sweep at her hair, pushing it up over the pillow, away from where it would get in his face. She lifted her head a bit to make it easier, and because she knew what came next—his arm, under her neck. His chest against her back. His forehead, pressing against the back of her head.

She lifted the blanket, adjusting it over them as he shifted and she shifted and they settled together, and it felt somehow more innocent and sweet for the memory.

There hadn’t even been a question of who he was going to crawl into bed with, especially when the bunks on the submarine were so bloody small. Fitz wasn’t a big guy, but there simply wasn’t room to share with anyone but Jemma. He theoretically could have shared with Skye, but he’d seen her sleep on the couch in the Bus. She never could stay still. He’d have ended up on his arse on the floor in an hour or less. 

Better still was that Jemma sleepily welcomed him in with her, holding the blanket up until he got situated and he could take over tucking it in around them. Fitz grinned when she lifted her head, although it was still tinged with his own tiredness. “I guess I’m just that predictable,” he whispered down to her, sliding his arms into their accustomed places. 

“You’re still full of surprises, I’m sure,” she murmured back. “I just know your habits.” She leaned, cuddling back into the contours of his body and sighing. It had been a long time since she’d been able to just snuggle with someone, and getting to cuddle against Fitz, whatever the excuse, was a welcome reminder. She closed her eyes, letting her muscles relax and her senses become aware of him, heat and breath and heartbeat. She covered his arm around her waist, fingertips resting in the dips between his knuckles, even as she tucked her foot back behind his ankle and dug under his trouser leg for warm skin.

He let out a soft huff when her cold toes landed against his skin. “Damni’, Jem. Y’ always do that,” Fitz grumbled, but there was no heat behind it. He only shifted his leg, catching her foot between his calves to let her warm up. He rolled his shoulders as he settled in, wincing when his collarbone cracked and then snuggling his head into Jemma’s pillow, his nose half-buried in her hair. 

It was intimate, but it had happened often enough in their past that Fitz didn’t really think anything of it anymore. It was just Jemma. And no matter how comfortable this was, how familiar the warm curves of her might be, how he would recognize the honeysuckle and rose scent of her shampoo anywhere… She wasn’t meant for him. They were just friends. Best friends, for sure, but she’d never see him as anything else. He’d ruined whatever chance they had years ago.

Unaware of Fitz’s thoughts, Jemma fell back into an easy sleep, more comfortable than she had been alone for his warmth and easy affection. Dimly, she wondered why she hadn’t thought to crawl in with him a time or two on the Bus. There had been a few nights she could have used some company, particularly after the virus incident, or when she woke in the night convinced Skye’s blood was still on her hands. She’d buckled down then, told herself to stop being silly and gone back to sleep alone. Looking back, Fitz would have been a good option.

And hell, he was comfortable, bigger than she remembered. The shape of his chest and arms fit fuller against her for the training Ward had been putting all of them through. His hold on her was more secure, the veins under her fingers a bit more pronounced. He was older, too, she supposed. They were both twenty six now, Fitz almost twenty seven, and his metabolism had at last slowed down enough to let him put on a bit of weight, which--at Ward’s direction--had gone mostly into muscle.

There was a strange trickle of pride down her back, as if she could take any credit for how well Fitz had grown up. “Fitz,” she whispered, rousing as a thought occurred to her. “We’re coming up on ten years, aren’t we?

Fitz had thought she’d drifted off with the way she’d melted back against him like that, her body relaxed and almost boneless. When her soft voice carried back to him, Fitz startled, losing his careful balance on the edge of the narrow bunk. He clutched her closer, arm tight around her ribs using her weight as an anchor, to keep himself from falling. 

“Chris’, Jemma. I thought y’ were asleep already,” he muttered, his breath hitching from surprise and the unexpected jolt of adrenaline. “What are y’ on about?” he asked, having missed the initial question in his surprise. He quieted again at a creak from one of the other bunks. Fitz didn’t want to wake everyone else, not when he was getting an unexpected chance to be close to her. 

She gripped his leg to keep him on the bed, then let out a slightly exasperated sigh. “I said we’re coming up on ten years. That we’ve known each other. In September.”

He cocked his head, considering as he gingerly resettled behind her. Fitz’ fingers idly soothed over her ribs, rubbing the spot where he’d grabbed on too tightly as he considered her comment. “Yeah, I guess it has... Doesna seem like it’s been that long.” 

And even if it had felt like twice that time, he’d never have complained. The time he’d spent with her so far had been the best of his life. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner and best friend. Humming at the thought, Fitz nestled in at her back, his breath warm against Jemma’s neck as he spoke softly into her ear. “What got y’ thinking about that?” 

“I dunno,” she said. “I was just trying to remember the last time we slept like this, and I think it was at the Academy. You feel different now. Not as scrawny,” she teased, pinching his leg.

“I should hope not, as much as Ward has been after me t’ do those bloody pull ups every damn day,” the engineer grumbled quietly. “But it canna have been that long.” 

He thought back over the years. “No, this happened twice at SciOps. The camping trip from hell an’ when my gram passed.” 

The camping trip had been organized for the small cluster of SciOps geeks wanting to take the field assessment. It had rained the entire time and Jemma’s tent leaked so she’d crawled in with Fitz, shivering and miserable.

Fitz’ grandmother had died a few weeks after he and Jemma moved into their shared flat. They’d been in the midst of a critical project and hadn’t been able to be spared. Fitz spent hours clinging to Jemma on their couch, silently grieving when he should have been in Glasgow at her memorial.

“Right,” she said, drawing out the word sleepily. “I’d forgotten about those. That camping trip was miserable. I didn’t think I’d ever be warm again.” Just thinking about that bone-deep chill lifted the hairs on her arms. She snuggled back into Fitz, nudging his hand a little farther around her ribcage. He really had gotten more solid. The sandpaper roughness of his chin felt comforting against the back of her neck, and she felt just a tinge more awake than she had before, though she knew she should sleep rather than stay up talking and observing.

“You keep scooting back like that an’ you’re going t’ push me off this bunk,” Fitz laughed softly. He didn’t want a repeat of the earlier slip. The floors were all metal and would not be forgiving. “Why don’t y’ turn around an’ put your back against the wall? Give us both a bit more room, I think.”

“Because you’re warm,” she whined. “And the wall is freezing. And then we’ll just keep bumping knees. Unless you want to be the little spoon.” The thought was strangely adorable. Not that it hadn’t happened before, but that had been at the Academy, and he’d been almost as small as her.

Fitz huffed, nudging her shoulder. “Oh for f-- Just turn over, Jem.” He’d let her sleep on him if it meant actually sleeping and not just uncomfortably dozing through the night. 

She gave a long-suffering sigh and wriggled herself around, trying (and failing) not to elbow Fitz in the process. By the time she’d fought the blankets into submission, she was wedged between the chill wall and Fitz, and rather less comfortable than she’d been before. “‘Kay,” she said. “You get where you’re comfortable, and I’ll cat.”

“To cat” had become a verb in the FitzSimmons flat, which described the loose-limbed, serpentine positioning of a Jemma around whatever objects or persons were in the way of sleeping. Usually pillows, bags, or laptops. Sometimes Fitz or the Fitz family dog, in one instance.

He laughed, trying to keep his voice down, causing it to be more of a vibration in his chest than a full sound. “This is one o’ the times I wish I could do that,” Fitz admitted. He reached for her a moment later though, settling himself closer to the middle of the bunk and reeling her in. His arm slid under her neck again, the other curling warmly around her back. 

She curved herself around him, pulling some of her weight up onto his chest and hip and casting her leg over his. It took a moment to get her arm comfortable beneath her, the other curling against his collarbone as she tucked her nose into his neck and settled. It was not a graceful position, nor would it be particularly innocent-looking if anyone else woke up and peeked in on them, but it was comfortable enough.

“Okay, I think I can sleep like this,” she said.

“Alright then. It will be your turn t’ take watch in a bit. Y’ should get some sleep while y’ can,” Fitz murmured. He settled in, eyelids slipping shut and then quickly into sleep once Jemma stopped wriggling around. 

Of course, Jemma woke Fitz up when May summoned her for the next watch, landing a knee in his gut - thankfully not his groin - when she climbed over him to get out of the bunk. To hell with this, Fitz thought. The bunk was terribly uncomfortable, especially without her warmth next to him. Slipping out of the small room, he raided storage closets until he had what he wanted, stringing up a makeshift hammock across a little-used access hatch. Jemma would probably see it on the way back from her watch, but if not, this sub wasn’t that big. She’d find it and him. 

Lining it with extra blankets, Fitz was pleased when he climbed in - it felt more like a nest than anything. He climbed in and was out again almost immediately. 

Jemma’s watch produced nothing of particular interest, except what she suspected might have been an anglerfish as the autopilot continued powering them in the direction of the otherworldly signal. She’d nabbed an extra pair of socks, but it didn’t seem to do any good - her feet ached with cold by the time she nodded to Ward, who had replaced Coulson halfway through Jemma’s watch, and went back to the bunks to wake Skye.

“Don’t bother,” Ward said. “Let her sleep a while. I got a full eight hours, so I’m just gonna stay awake. Go get some rest.”

She was surprised to find May occupying the bunk she and Fitz had been in, even more surprised to find that Fitz was nowhere to be seen. On such a small vessel, however, it didn’t take her more than a few minutes to locate the hammock he’d rigged, and she had to admit--it looked a lot more comfortable than the narrow, hard bunks, especially with the nest of blankets he’d created in it.

“Fitz,” she whispered, reaching into the heat of his cocoon to shake his shoulder. “Is there room for two?”

“Mmm?” He muttered sleepily. “Is it my turn again?” It hadn’t felt like he’d slept that long. The atmospheric changes from being underwater, this far down could only be controlled so much. Maybe that was affecting his sleep, Fitz considered. If that was the case, this was going to be a long, painful mission. Fitz on little to no sleep was a bear for anyone to deal with, even Jemma. 

She shook her head though and he roused a little more, only settling when Jemma’s soft question processed. “Oh. Yeah, I can share,” he mumbled, pushing away the blanket draped over him. “Just try not t’ dump me on the floor climbing in.” Fitz had set the hammock low enough to easily access, but it still wasn’t impossible to turn the wrong way. His hand fumbled out to catch her wrist and give a gentle tug toward him. 

She was careful with her knees this time, and after some shifting and blanket arranging, managed to slide in, half on top of him, and shift over. The hammock sagged a little with their weight, tipping them against each other in a nearly inescapable bundle, which was just as well to Jemma, since Fitz was comfortably padded thanks to Ward’s training, and she’d always rather liked the feel of his rough jaw against her cheek. So she “catted”, molded herself against him and let the covers seal them in like a pair of caterpillars in a single wooly chrysalis. She inhaled a breath that expanded her lungs to aching, and let it out, imagining the stress flowing from her body at the same time.

Fitz stifled a chuckle at the way she draped herself over him, her body seemingly boneless. He’d always envied the way Jemma could somehow make herself comfortable almost anywhere and sleep. He was too particular and his body demanded a certain level of comfort before he could drift off - or total exhaustion, which he tried to avoid. 

He tugged the blankets more comfortably around them, one arm wrapped warm and snug over her. Fitz could care less if Coulson or anyone else wanted to give them hell about this - sleeping in that bunk would have made him impossible to deal with. 

Jemma settled, her breathing going even, unconsciously falling in perfect opposition with Fitz’s so the swell of their chests didn’t push them apart. Her head pressed against his cheek, and she nuzzled into his face, inhaling the spice of his skin, the comforting familiarity of his sweat and mostly-faded after shave.

“This is way too comfortable to be allowed,” she murmured. “Make us a hammock on the Bus. Put it in the storage area for naps.”

“I hadna-” Fitz started, then had to stifle a yawn. “If I’d known it would be this comfortable, I’d have done it already. Given a bit o’ time, I could make it even better than this. This is still a mite short for me. Probably perfect for you.” He wriggled a bit, balancing their combined weight better so he didn’t feel like he was leaning too far to one side.

The movement required her to shift an arm, which had been pinned between her and the hammock, but now had a bit more freedom to stretch. She tucked it alongside her, and found the movement had drawn it right up against his. She wiggled her fingers a little, burrowing them into his lightly-closed fingers so she could nestle the back of her hand into his palm like a stacking cup.

“Do you believe it?” she asked, already a little groggy. “Atlantis?”

Fitz huffed when she shifted again, already drifting back off and more than half asleep. Unthinkingly, he slid his arm around Jemma and rolled more onto his side, arms cradling her, one hand on the back of her head guiding her back into place on his shoulder. With one leg draped over the drawn-up edges of the hammock, Jemma’s were left cradled between his thighs and Fitz stifled a soft groan. “Shhhh, Jem,” he mumbled into her hair. “We can talk in the morning’.” 

Jemma didn’t respond, just pillowed her head on his chest and stilled, listening for the cadence of his heartbeat and breathing and letting it pull her senses away from the sound of water rushing past the sensors around them, and the knowledge that there was an impossibility of deep, dark ocean just beyond the metal walls. She was wrapped up in Fitz’s lanky limbs, with his warmth pressing up against her, the two of them lazy as a pair of kittens. Nothing outside that makeshift hammock mattered.

***

It took another day and a half before they got anywhere close to the signal they were chasing, and Fitz was already frustrated with the search. There was no obvious source, and definitely nothing that looked like a sunken city. If there was, it was buried under centuries worth of coral and other sea life. They couldn’t even go out to look for it because the experimental unit hadn’t been tested to this depth. SHIELD had guesstimated the signal to be 18,000 feet down. They were closer to 25,000 now, and Fitz was getting antsy about the hull integrity of the main vehicle, much less the smaller submersible. 

He was in the main control room, watching the video feed over the ocean floor as it passed beneath them, when he heard the door snick open behind him. “Still nothing,” Fitz said, knowing that was going to be the first question they asked, no matter who it was. Well, except perhaps May, but May was also the least likely person to be popping into this room, not while he was on watch.

Coulson stepped up next to Fitz, staring out into the darkness of the deep ocean, the floor lit only by the spotlights of their vehicle. “How much further down do you think we can go before this thing gets totally unsafe?”

Fitz’ eyes cut over to Coulson. “I’m not happy about where we are now. Are y’ seriously thinking o’ going further down? Sir…” The Scot took a moment to consider his words, knowing Coulson needed reasoned argument. “We’re already risking death being down here, even more by being seven thousand feet past where we were supposed t’ stop. It’s not a good idea.” 

“I’ll take that under advisement. Fitz, I’ll take over watch. Go on and get some sleep. I’m pretty sure Agent Simmons has commandeered your hammock again.” Coulson didn’t say a word about the intimacy of them sharing a ‘bed’. Even before this mission, if something had happened to one of them, the other would be inconsolable. Trying to keep them apart with a potential romance brewing wouldn’t make a difference at this point. 

Fitz got to his feet, wincing as muscles and bones complained about the terrible chair, but headed for the loo and then Jemma. She was sleeping peacefully in their unofficial bunk, and he had to stop and stare for a few minutes, as always, enthralled by her beauty when she wasn’t conscious to notice it. After a few minutes, he swung the hatch closed behind him, locking them away from most of the team, and started the careful maneuver of climbing in with her. 

He’d learned the trick of lifting a sleeping Jemma without waking her long ago, when she’d so often fallen asleep in the lab. Fitz did that now, cradling the brunette against his chest before carefully easing the both of them down into the hammock.

Jemma stirred, twisting herself around as he sank into the hammock and tossing a leg over his knees. The best way to sleep in the hammock with Fitz, she’d found, was to use him like a secondary, nested hammock. She curled over him, her knees tucked up over his, her arms curled to her chest, head tucked against his shoulder. She left settling the blankets over them up to him and snuggled her face against his neck, nuzzling a bit. “You’re scratchy,” she murmured.

“No reason t’ shave when I’m up all bloody night on watch with no one t’ see or care,” Fitz grumbled. And he’d forgotten to bring extra blades for his razor anyway, so he might get rather shaggy if they didn’t head back to civilization soon. 

He shifted a little beneath her, getting himself more comfortable before pulling the blankets up over them both. If he’d been claustrophobic, he never could have managed, with the heavy fabric beneath and up his sides, Jemma’s weight pinning him in and the blankets sealing the rest of the open space, but instead it was comforting. Safe, even though nothing else about this mission was safe or comforting. 

Brushing a kiss against Jemma’s forehead, he tipped his head back against the small pillow and was silent for a long while. Jemma was still and quiet against him, her breathing soft and even and he thought she was asleep when he let out a heartfelt sigh. Their talk about that night in the tent back at SciOps had him thinking about it more and more - the kiss that night they’d agreed never to talk about. 

He’d been right to tell her no then - neither of them had been ready for what being together would mean. Now Fitz was ready, but he didn’t think he’d ever get the chance again. He was so firmly in the friend zone that he wasn’t sure he even registered as male to Jemma anymore. 

“What?” she mumbled, registering sleepily the sigh that said something was bothering him. “Uncomfortable? Or is Coulson pushing our luck to breaking point?” She reached up, scratching at the curls at the base of his skull in an absent, comforting sort of way.

Fitz startled at her soft words. “‘M sorry, I didna mean t’ wake y’, lass,” he whispered down to her. Hesitating, knowing she’d never let him go without telling her what was bothering him, he fought with himself, a brief violent battle of what he wanted to do and what he should do. And given the night he kept thinking about… Maybe if he was lucky, she’d grant him the same favor and forget all about this if it wasn’t what she wanted. 

Curling a finger under Jemma’s chin to urge her face up toward him, Fitz tipped his head and laid a soft kiss against her mouth, lips moving slowly over hers. She didn’t respond, and Fitz tried to write it off that she was half-asleep and not that she was that disinterested, but his heart sank anyway. He’d known it was a long shot to start with, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

She was staring at him. Utter shock coursing through her veins as she was instantly completely awake, shot through with adrenaline. Fitz had just kissed her. Fitz had just kissed her. After everything that had happened Once Upon a Tent and he was suddenly kissing her now.

“Fitz,” she murmured. “Please tell me there’s a reason you just did that… Or am I going mad?”

He swallowed hard as he tried to force a smile for her. “Because I wanted to?” Fitz’ chest hurt, her wide eyed and stunned expression not making him feel any better. She looked scared too, and he hated knowing he’d made her feel that way. “Just forget it, okay? I shouldn’ have...” 

“Did you change your mind,” she asked. “Or… or something like that? I thought you didn’t--” she stopped herself and took a steadying breath. “I thought you didn’t feel that way.”

His lips pressed together, knowing she was going to be very unhappy with him in a moment. If not outright angry. “I always felt that way, but we… I didna think… Do y’ really think we could have made it work then? We were too damn young, Jem.” 

Her fingers pressed into the canvas of the hammock below him and she executed an awkward push-up, drawing back so she could get a good look at his face. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t make an expression. All she could do was look down at him with the understanding that he had felt the same way about her that she had about him this whole time and kept it from her. Because he’d decided, on his own, that they couldn’t have made it work. Without giving her a say. She’d tipped her hand, and he’d folded.

“I...don’t know what to say to that,” she said honestly. “Obviously, I’m furious.”

Fitz had to let Jemma go when she pulled back. Even though he wanted to tighten his arms and keep her with him, it wouldn’t be fair. If she even let him do it. He watched her, only to drop his gaze, shamefaced, when she spoke. “I know I should have done things differently, but I didna know how. It’s no excuse, but that’s the truth. I made a bloody mess of everythin’ and I dinna blame y’ for being brassed off at me. ” 

She shook her head. “You should have...talked to me. You should have told me and let me be a part of that decision-making process.” She groaned in frustration and banged her forehead into his sternum. “I suppose there’s no point in telling you what you should have done. It’s past.” She took in a deep breath, trying to still the tumult of feelings inside her, but they wouldn’t be quieted. “Can I just say... I am very. Very. Very angry at you? So angry that I actually don’t want you to kiss me right now. As soon as I stop being angry, I will probably shove you into a closet and make out like we’re seventeen, but right now I am going to sleep before I throttle you.”

“I know. I knew y’ would be…” he started, but then she kept talking and his eyes trailed back up to hers, confusion written all over his face. Fitz wasn’t sure if he should be happy at the implication that she wanted to kiss him later on, or unhappy that she was angry with him now. He’d have to settle for a mix of both. 

Her comment about just wanting to sleep had him shifting to sit up more in the hammock. “Alright, lass,” he sighed, edging further into unhappiness, “Let me up, then. I’ll find somewhere else t’ sleep tonight.” The last thing he wanted was to walk away from Jemma right now, but if she needed time, he’d give her that. It was the least he could give her after what he’d already done. 

“Oh, no. You’re not going anywhere,” she said, shifting so she could plant her hands on his chest and pin him into the hammock. “You are going to stay here and suffer through your punishment.”

She was making him feel completely and utterly stupid. “What?” he blurted out, sandy brows drawing together as she pushed him back. “I dinna know what y’ want from me. You’re angry, but y’ want me t’ stay here? You’re not makin’ any sense.” 

Unlike Fitz, she didn’t always need space when she was angry. More often than not, she needed to find a way to defuse the emotion, to vent the steam before it built up and she popped (which was never as bad as some people’s explosions--it generally entailed sobbing in the shower or throwing something in the lab, but it still felt wretched).

“I am angry,” she said. “And I don’t want you to go, because my anger demands a sacrifice.” She widened her honey gold eyes and glared down at him, then swooped down and kissed him, nudging his mouth open and sinking into the kiss thoroughly for a good ten seconds. Ten seconds that she remembered enjoying quite a bit when he’d kissed her back three years ago. Then she pulled away, nipping at his lip softly as she drew up and looked at him. “Your sacrifice is dealing with the memory of that for the rest of the night while I’m right here.”

He bit his lip sharply, wanting to say something else, but thinking better of it knowing she was angry. Fitz had seen it when Jemma really exploded and he definitely didn’t want to set that off, not with him being the closest thing at hand. Having her kiss him and then tell him he couldn’t do it again until she said so was bad enough. 

His fingers twitched, and Fitz gave in to that. She hadn’t said he couldn’t touch her. 

Fitz sat up again, Jemma cradled in his lap, to wrap his arms around her and set his chin on her shoulder. He had to shift his weight to keep the hammock from rocking too wildly from his movement, his fingers clenching in her shirt to keep Jemma from getting jostled around. “Alright. Whatever y’ want. If y’ just want t’ sleep, go on. I’ll be quiet,” he said with a sigh. 

She curled up, tucking herself against him, resting her chin on his shoulder in a mirror of his action. Both arms slid around his waist and hugged him, and she found her anger settling to a simmer, mingling with the frustration of having him close and--because of her own mandate--not being able to take out that frustration in a more pleasant way. But it was probably for the best. Right now, she’d just end up angry-kissing him, and that probably wasn’t the best way to start carving this new facet of their relationship.

“I love you, you utter berk,” she said instead.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a soft huff against her neck, and tipped his head to lean against hers. “I love y’ too, baby girl,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didna tell y’ before.” Fitz drew her with him as he moved carefully to sit closer to one end of the hammock, letting the heavy fabric cradle them both in a more upright position instead of laying totally prone. 

Fitz was operating on pure instinct at the moment, his brain overwhelmed with the mixed feelings he had about the last… had it only been ten minutes? He didn’t even know what to say now, and he’d almost never been speechless around her. Not unless she’d managed to embarrass him, but this was entirely different. 

The silence surrounded them, interrupted only by the offset cadences of their heartbeats, tapping in their chests. She timed them out of habit and, unsurprisingly, both pulses were slightly elevated. Yet they were just sitting, holding each other, thinking back on years they could have been something different. Or could they? Maybe he had been right about that. Being together so young probably wouldn’t have been good for them.

But now? Now they knew each other, knew themselves. Knew the value of life in general and how easily it could be lost. Not only that, they knew what they would do for each other. In short, anything.

“Nope. Nevermind,” she said, leaning back enough to press her forehead to his. “I can’t stand it. Punishment over.”

Fitz drew back though, hands rising to tentatively cup her cheeks and study her face. “Y’ sure? Not going t’ change your mind an’ deck me if I kiss y’ again?” His voice was teasing, but he was serious too. It wasn’t like her to change her mind so fast when she’d just been angry with him. 

“How about I deck you if you don’t?” she said. “I’ve been waiting three years for you to kiss me back. I never thought you would want to.” The memory of hurt and rejection twinged in her chest again and she pressed her lips together a bit to make certain they stayed still. “Now I just want to believe it.”

That got a little laugh out of him, his mouth curling up into his familiar half-smile for the first time since he’d left her for his last shift on watch and he’d got caught up in thinking it was time to tell her. “Alright, alright, I think that’s clear enough,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss her properly, with both of them anticipating the connection, for the first time. 

She leaned in to meet him, softer than she actually wanted to, holding back because she wanted to remember the sweetness of the breaking tension. Their mouths brushed, then closed, and she kissed him, her tongue and lips delicate against his, fingers curling tight in his shirt at the small of his back.

Fitz was careful with her, fingers cradling her jaw like the precious thing she was, leading the kisses but taking his cues from her reactions. After a few minutes, he drew back, breathless but grinning at her, expression sappy and more than a little goofy. “Happy now?” he teased.

“Yes,” she said rather archly. “And now we sleep. And in the morning…” she trailed off, glancing back up at him. “We do that again. And then we get to decide how much to tell the team.”

A little of the brightness faded from Fitz’ smile at that reminder of their current reality. Coulson could theoretically throw a wrench into their relationship pretty easily if he wanted to. All it would take was a call to The Hub to have one of them reassigned as soon as they were back on land. If Coulson even listened to reason and didn’t take this vehicle any deeper than they already were.

Still, he nodded, “Yeah. We need t’ decide what t’ tell them… And how t’ handle Coulson and SHIELD if they dinna like it.” Fitz looked at her, almost shyly, but oddly content, too. “In the morning.” The hammock swayed again as Fitz slid them to lie back down, reaching for the blanket she’d shoved to the other end after he’d surprised her with that first kiss. 

Jemma found a comfortable position with Fitz and relaxed, but her mind was spinning. Just when she was certain she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, sleep dragged her down, and she was out.


End file.
